Skylark
by Deception Alchemist
Summary: Seven lives, six realms, one skylark. He drifted like a cloud, lingering close, yet untouchable. 6918 Chapter 5: Realm of Hell
1. Realm of Animals

It was boring, as usual. As Mukuro had gone through all of the realms of existence, at this point, he was just going through each on a whim.

Currently, he was in the third realm, the realm of Animals.

He hooted sleepily as dawn arrived. He raised one of his wings and stuffed his head under it, but not before his sharp ears caught the sound of another bird. It was a beautiful sound, and it rejuvenated every cell in his body. All fatigue that had ached his muscles disappeared in a second and within another, he was out flying in search of the bird that sang the song.

He arrived at, coincidentally, the same field that he had been hunting in during the night before.

A little gray bird was fluttering high in the air, almost like a little gray speck, chirping a song at the top of it its lungs.

_A skylark?_ Mukuro thought, bemusedly. The little bird dove in and out of the field of wheat like it was water. Mukuro sat on his perch for a while watching the dance of the skylark, transfixed at the sight. In and out, and barely a ripple in the golden ocean of wheat.

A particularly strong gust of wind rustled the leaves almost violently. The sound caught Mukuro off guard and he hooted in surprise. He mentally cursed (as much as an owl can curse, in any case) himself for being so distracted that even _wind_ would startle him. His large eyes traveled back to the skylark, almost worried about his reaction.

The gray bird froze in mid air as he determined where the sound was coming from, grains still in his mouth. He caught Mukuro's eye and gave a startling squawk that was diminished by the squeakiness of his voice.

Mukuro hooted out a chuckle and spread his wide wings with grandeur. He left the perch that he was sitting on and went back to his own tree trunk. He wiggled around to get comfortable before falling asleep under his wing with a slight smirk.

...he needed to wake up early to nurse his broken pride.

* * *

The following morning, Mukuro found himself returning to the farm.

Although he was already tired, he dropped himself on the same branch as the day before. Still slightly hungry (nursing his pride took up a lot more time than expected and he had gotten into a slight tussle with a cat) his ears heard a little rustling that he soon found to be a field mouse. He debated whether he should eat it or not: food was a good thing, but he didn't want to miss or scare off the skylark. And the fact that field mice had too much field and not enough mouse in them.

His belly ached and that decided it for him. Without further thought, he swooped down upon the unfortunate mouse. He chased it out of the fields and continued to play with it for a few more seconds, snipping at the mouse's tail here and there. He hooted out laughter. The mouse attempted to take advantage of the temporary distraction and tried to run away. Mukuro hooted laughter again and dug his talons into the mouse's flesh.

Or at least, he would have if not for a beak that dug into _his_ shoulder.

Mukuro froze, and the other bird propelled forward and snapped at the owl. Mukuro hooted angrily as he moved out of the way. He watched, very irked, as the mouse scurried away and the other bird still blocked his movements. He hooted angrily at the interfering bird but almost choked when he noticed exactly who it was.

The little gray skylark.

That didn't stop him from attacking, though. He lowered his head and clipped at the other bird's neck. A coppery taste filled his mouth. He released the smaller bird, startling the latter who was struggling desperately to escape.

Unperturbed by the blood that was beginning to mat his feathers, the skylark squawked loudly and clawed at Mukuro's eyes. He managed to graze skin under his eyes and nipped sharply at the joint between the owl's body and wing.

Mukuro, impossibly annoyed, tried to dig his claws into the skylark. He only got in a small scratch on the bird's wing before it flew out of the way and scratched deeply into Mukuro's body. The two of them flew backwards as they sized each other up.

Both were covered in blood, effectively mapping their feathers down.

The skylark snapped at the owl and chirped angrily. Mukuro's large eyes blinked slowly, and then he let out a laugh.

How could _he _possibly consider a tiny bird like this a worthy opponent?

Still chortling with laughter, he flew off, leaving the skylark bewildered and angry.

* * *

It seemed like no sooner after he had fallen asleep, he was woken up rudely by a nip to the wing.

Mukuro hooted angrily as he flapped his wings to get rid of whoever it was that was disturbing his peace. When he noticed that it was the same little skylark, apparently intent on revenge, he paused and came out of his little hole.

Mukuro noted smugly that some feathers were still tinted red and the part where Mukuro had in his beak was bare and an angry red.

The skylark flew forward to bite Mukuro. The latter just chortled out a hoot before obliging to the skylark's demand and attacking right back.

Mukuro noticed, with satisfaction that no matter what injuries the skylark obtained, he always fought back with the same aloof ferocity.

He approved.


	2. Realm of Humans

Daemon rolled the tassels of his shoulder pads between his fingers as he lounged on the couch idly. A, muffled _tap-tap_ of heels from the hallway flooded the previously silent room. They stopped abruptly. The door swung open roughly. The chandelier tinkled from the force. Daemon paid no notice, and continued to study the intricate fibers and threads of his tassel.

"Daemon Spade."

It wasn't a question.

"Yes?" Daemon shot a dazzling smile at the speaker, a blond who looked as if he'd be anywhere else but here. He had thin eyes and a stern face with a crisp coat that gave him the air of authority. Daemon eyed him carefully with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"You are wanted for attacking the royal family of France, and for destroying nearly half of the military."

Daemon laughed lightly, "Really? Am I? So who's asking? _Direction de la protection ed de la s__é_curite de la d_é_fense? Or perhaps the _Direction du renseignment militaire_?"

The man said nothing, and instead drew a rapier from his belt. He aimed it at Daemon.

"A rapier, I never thought I'd see anyone use it in this time period," Daemon laughed lightly. The blonde thrust the blade out. Despite the original surprise at the sudden move, Daemon just barely managed to dodge the attack and dissolved into mist.

The blond surveyed his surroundings carefully.

"Hm, 'Alaude'?"

Alaude whipped his head around to see Daemon reading his name off of his identification card. His hand instinctively moved to his pocket, and found it empty. He swung at Daemon again, catching him by surprise. The blade nicked Daemon's cheek, leaving a thing trail of red.

Daemon stumbled back and blinked, but soon straightened himself up. He smirking, "You're such a little skylark, you know? Trying to peck me to death?"

Alaude growled and, as if to make a point, bared his teeth, "I bite."

Neither of them noticed the door opening.

"Stop!"

Both men halted their actions mid-move.

"Ah, Giotto!" Daemon swung around to smile a dazzlingly, bright smile at the Vongola don. Giotto ignored it and sighed in response.

"I see you've met each other," Giotto sighed, eyeing the two men suspiciously.

"Hm? You mean he wasn't just a pest you wanted me to get rid of?" Daemon asked sweetly. A mist formed around him as he continued, "Nevertheless, it'd be delightful to get rid of him.."

"Stop that Daemon," Giotto sent a glare in Daemon's direction. He simply pouted but obediently dispersed the mist.

"I'm sending the two of you on a mission, together. And I expect the two of you not to murder each other," Giotto said as he caught Alaude's look of disgust. He tossed a file of papers to them. "Here are the details" He paused. "Don't do anything unnecessary, Daemon."

"Ah, you pacifist. What a spoil-sport. Besides, that archduke was totally asking for it," Daemon sighed. He twirled his hair idly, but his lips curled into a knowing smile, "Although...I hear from a little birdie that you've been discussing world domination plans with Cozart? I applaud your growing maturity."

Giotto raised an eyebrow and replied, "Whatever source you heard it from is faulty. We were merely discussing hypothetical situations of unifying Europe."

Alaude suddenly broke in with scoff. He affirmed stubbornly, "As if two tiny mafia famiglias will be able to do that. France will be the one to do it. Despite the setbacks, Napoleon's legacy will remain."

Daemon stared at him, and shrugged, "Well I'm not one to disillusion another. I usually do the illusioning."

"Work together, alright?" Giotto sighed as he turned to leave, already regretting this decision.

He left, and Alaude followed soon after. Watching Alaude's retreating steps, Daemon cocked an eyebrow and mused silently, _Well, well, well, looks like the little skylark's back._

* * *

He breathed heavily as his hand searched behind him for something stable, something for support. His head tilted back in pain. His hand was covering his abdomen as if it could somehow impede the blood flow.

"Daemon." Giotto's eyes were accusing.

"Yes?" Daemon hissed in pain. He felt his legs falter.

Giotto closed his eyes. His next word was nearly inaudible.

"...Why?"

A simple word. It triggered something in Daemon.

"Why? _Why?_" Daemon narrowed his eyes. His face lost all saccharine. He lip curled as he spat out, "Because, you are a weak, spineless _brat_. That's why. You don't understand the power you have, and you're so stupid and naive. You don't deserve the power."

"Hey!" G roared, grinding the cigarette in his mouth. He glared at Daemon with such intensity that it seemed like he wanted nothing more than to run his arrows right through him.

"Stand down," Giotto said softly. He gave Daemon one last, long look. He turned away, shaking his head, and exited the room. G snarled before following.

"See? See!" Daemon yelled after Giotto with much more ferociousness than he possessed. He ignored the stabbing pain and the blood suffusing through his shirt, "You're a coward again! How do you think Cozart thinks abou-!"

An abrupt, forceful impact sent Daemon skidding across the room. His arm burned and tingled from the friction, and it didn't do anything to impede the bleeding he already had. Lampo, despite his usually timid nature, looked positively frightening.

"Glad to see at least someone's grown a little backbone," Daemon laughed bitterly, ignoring the blood he was coughing up. Knuckles ignored him as he tried to calm Lampo down, murmuring soothing words as only a priest could. He gently tugged the younger boy out the door. Ugetsu gave Daemon a final bow before following the other two.

"Why'd you do that?"

Daemon turned to look at the only other one left in the room, and the one who had spoken. Alaude.

"What do you mean? You know exactly why I did it," Daemon feigned ignorance. He winced as he shifted to sit up. "Giotto is too soft. He isn't going to last in the mafia like this."

Alaude glared at Daemon and jerked his head abruptly, "You know what I mean. Why didn't you just escape? An illusionist like you would have been able to do it easily."

Daemon studied Alaude for a few seconds before looking away. He stared off into space for several seconds before continuing softly, "Giotto needs to know that not everyone in the mafia is as nice as we are." He paused and chuckled bitterly, "Well, as nice as the others, in any case."

Alaude stared at Daemon with an almost disbelieving, yet disdainful, expression. "You do realize that if you were wrong in your assumption of Giotto's character, you would very well be a corpse right now?" He shook his head and sneered, "Masochist."

Daemon laughed a light lilt that contradicted with his appearance. "Well, little skylark, I suppose I should be making my grand finale right now, don't you?"

Even as he spoke, a soft mist filled the room.

_Goodbye, my sweet skylark._

Within seconds, any sign of his existence was removed from the room.


	3. Realm of Heaven

The first thing that Mukuro remembered thinking was that his stomach was feeling strangely empty.

The second was: _Oh...I'm here._

And the third: _How the _fuck_ did I get here?_

This world was one that he never expected to see again.

Heaven.

Now he was a good twenty-three years in this world of Deva and Mukuro had to admit, however grudgingly, there truly was no world more pleasant than this one. There was something calming about the sweet air that relaxed every muscle. It was a strangely invigorating feeling. True, there was nothing in any of the worlds that could compare to the peacefulness and the serenity of Heaven, but it was lacking something. There was just a little something that prevented this world from becoming his ideal world. He felt restless. He thought it over.

Ah, of course.

That was it. It was missing the unique chaotic charm and terror that only he could cause. He nodded, affirming the assertion.

He had been complacent for far too long! He was going to take matters into—! _Shiiiii!_

He was interrupted by the whistling of the water heater that told him that the hot water was done and ready for tea. He sighed as he looked up at his empty teapot and then back at the water heater that was whistling relentlessly. He thought it over.

Yes. Terror it was. Tomorrow. Perhaps after a cup of sakurayu.

With that, he busied himself with preparing the tea.

* * *

Mukuro was not happy. He stalked along the trail that wound around the lush forests of Heaven, stomping and scowling at every animal he met along the way. He wanted to cause terror. He wanted to ruin the picturesque scenery of Heaven. He wanted to tear down this perfect world, dammit!

But he couldn't.

He cursed the sickeningly sweet and kind soul that was the side-effect of living in this world. He wasn't able to raise a hand against anyone without a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He supposed this feeling was that stupid _'guilt'_ and a feeling of _'justice'_ that Knuckles always preached about in their previous life.

Well, fuck that.

"What are you doing here?"

Mukuro wanted nothing better to do than to lunge at the speaker of those cold words and strangle him dead.

Wait…What? Cold words? _Cold words? _Mukuro almost felt like jumping for joy. So he _wasn't_ the only sane one in this world. That was something new. He turned around in what he thought was a threatening manner, putting on the best glare he had for a while. It failed miserably.

What he saw made him forget how to breathe for a second. The man in front of his eyes was practically Alaude's twin. They both had the same self-righteous sneer, the same blonde hair, the same smooth skin. The same piercing eyes.

When he finally found his voice again, he managed to choke out in a voice that was pitch higher than normal, "What does it matter to you?"

"What does it matter to me? You're on my property right now. Of course it matters to me," the Alaude look-alike curled his lip.

The two studied each other intently, searching for any weaknesses the other might have. Mukuro bent his knees and shifted his weight forward, ready to meet any attack Alaude, as Mukuro dubbed him, might make. Alaude moved his hand—

Mukuro rushed forward to meet the attack head on, but almost tripped over himself when Alaude just pulled a disgusted sneer and walked away instead of attacking. "What?" Mukuro stumbled before steadying himself. He looked up at Alaude, who yawned and stretched.

Alaude shrugged as he turned back to face Mukuro. He ran a hand through his silky, soft blond hair (Mukuro had to stop himself from staring), before nonchalantly replying with a smirk, "Eh, I'm not in the mood to fight. Besides…you don't look like you could harm a fly."

Mukuro's brain registered what he had said. He ground his teeth angrily. After all, he couldn't deny it. In this stupid, cursed world, he couldn't even hurt an insect without feeling some of that hideous 'guilt'. He hated the feeling so much. He just hoped that he wouldn't start spouting declarations of love to everything in sight, because for all he knew, that might just be the next thing the world provided him with.

Before he realized it, Alaude had retreated back into what Mukuro assumed was his home.

So, Mukuro did the first thing he thought of.

He followed Alaude home.

"What are you doing here?"

"Oh, nothing really," Mukuro looked around. He silently cursed whoever gave him the thought that following Alaude home was a good idea. He fingered a cabinet handle, feeling the smooth metal underneath his fingers. He opened it. Inside were little pots and boxes of tea. He reached for a ceramic pot with little purple birds. He took off the lid and sniffed it. "Nice collection."

"Hm," Alaude agreed.

He stared at Mukuro with those cold eyses of his, watching his every move. Mukuro felt unnerved by them. He replaced the tea. Alaude didn't say anything, but looked outside. Mukuro followed the other's gaze out the door.

"Sakura trees?"

There were pink petals floated up in a light pink tornado every time the wind blew. . Alaude wrinkled his nose in distaste. He looked away from the door. "Came with the house. If it was up to me, I wouldn't have something as weak as flowers in my house."

"If you know how to use them, it doesn't really matter, you know? Sakurayu's pretty good," Mukuro shrugged.

Alaude frowned. "Sakurayu?"

Mukuro smiled. "Tomorrow, boil some water. I'll be here at six."

Alaude didn't say anything, and Mukuro took that as agreement. Mukuro smiled to himself as left the building.

He had a date.

With a man whose name he didn't even know.

* * *

Mukuro raised his fist to knock on the door, all the while wondering what the hell he was doing. Why was he here, standing outside a strangers door with pickled sakura petals? Here, in front of a house that could house a serial killer or something (considering this was probably the reincarnation of Alaude, it wasn't really all that unlikely).

He walked straight in.

"Do you have the hot water?" Mukuro hummed as he entered the house without being invited in.

"It's in the pot."

Mukuro inwardly smirked at Alaude's slight show of enthusiasm of already boiling the water. He picked out two cups and a teapot from the cabinet he looked through yesterday. He poured several petals into the pot and filled it with hot water. Humming, he replaced the cap on the pot and let it steep.

He looked over at Alaude, who was preparing a dinner. "Ooh, that looks good. But…all meat?"

Alaude glared.

"It's not like you're going to stay for dinner, herbivore."

"What do you think about the tea?"

"Hn."

There was a chink of porcelain against metal as someone set down his fork.

"Glad you like it...and uh, this might sound a little awkward, but, uh, what's your name?"


	4. Realm of Asura

_Just a heads up, I made another version of this chapter (because it worked SO well) that's a crossover with Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler X3 There's an explanation there. _

* * *

It seemed to Mukuro that his life in Heaven passed in a blink of an eye. He had spent long days and longer nights at Alaude's (actually, his name turned out to be Arvensis) complex, but long before he had spent enough tme with, he was in his next life, in the realm of Asura, the realm of the belligerent spirits.

There was no doubt about it as he stared at the dark stains on the wall next to him. He had no doubt that they were blood stains, even with the only light coming from the lone flickering street lamp. Even it was going to go out soon, judging by the waning light. Mukuro closed his eyes, relishing in the distant sounds of screaming and terror.

It was good to be home.

And now that he was in his right mind, he could recognize and accept that he wanted to conquer that little skylark. To be able to hold him in his hands, clenching tightly, feeling the fluttering wings weaken and fade and disappear.

* * *

"Ah, a sea of blood..." Mukuro was satisfied. There were mutilated corpses lying everywhere, their blood splattered on the walls in red paintings. The red liquid that had accidentally sprayed onto him earlier still felt warm and comforting.

There was a soft sound of stepping that Mukuro didn't notice. The punch that soon came his way connected with his jaw painfully and with a startling _crack! _Mukuro's head was forced back, but he didn't move from his spot. It took him a second to recover from surprise.

"Oya, oya," Mukuro said bitterly, massaging his now sore jaw. "One left? I must be losing my touch."

The attacker remained silent as he released another attack on Mukuro, who dodged it, but just by a hair. His hand instinctively flew to his cheek and felt something warm...Blood? Mukuro's eyes travelled to his attacker's hand. Something glinted in the dim light.

"A knife? Sneaky." Mukuro chuckled as the six in his eye morphed into a two. "Perhaps you should take a trip to the Second State of Hell."

A strangled sound of surprise was all the reaction Mukuro got before the attacker dropped to the floor.

Mukuro laughed lightly as he sized up his assailant before kneeling down in front of his face and letting one of the snakes slither onto his arm. He petted its head and it hissed at him. "You must've thought that these cute guys were illusions, hm? They're poison is deadly if you don't get the antidote within the next five minutes."

"Fuck you." A wince.

"You can barely stand, hm?" Mukuro noted happily. "You're actually stronger than most people. Even an elephant could be stopped by it. I'll give you the antidote if you give me a good enough reason to save you."

"Fuck off. I'm not gonna die because of such herbivorous reason."

Mukuro actually did a double take. Not believing his ears, Mukuro gripped the boy's hair roughly and brought their faces close together and hissed, "What did you say?"

Instead of an answer though, the boy disregarded any attachment he had to for his (very soft and gorgeous as Mukuro could attest to) hair and leapt towards Mukuro's shoulder, gnawing down harshly. Mukuro pushed the other off, smirking, "Feisty."

There was the comment that included 'herbivore' and the biting and the violence that belonged to the skylark. Mukuro forced himself calm.

"What's your name?"

The boy stayed silent. His eyes flashed open as he growled and writhed with pain.

In a soft, alluring voice, Mukuro continued, "Oh, is the five minutes already up? You know, I could end it all for you, one way or another. If you want me to save you, _beg_ for it."

"I don't need..." the boy shook violently again before he finished his sentence. He fell to the ground and covered his mouth as he coughed violently. A little spot in Mukuro's heart twinged at the sight of his skylark's pain, but he quickly pushed it away.

But still, his dear little skylark...

"You're actually quite cute you know?" Mukuro studied his pained face. "I love your expression like that. So desperate for life, but too proud to ask for it."

His skylark's eyebrows were furrowed together in an attempt to control the pain and his skin and hair were covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat. His eyes, however, still burnt strong with a will to fight. A will Mukuro knew only too well.

"Shut...up...or I'll...bite..." the boy coughed out.

"I don't think you're in any room to make threats," Mukuro smiled. That little bit in his heart was infesting the rest, until Mukuro finally broke down. "Now don't think I'm doing this for your sake."

Mukuro fished out a small vial and poured it down the other boy's reluctant throat. Color returned to the boy's face and until the moment he fell unconscious, steel gray eyes glared at Mukuro. Mukuro approved.

"Why'd you save me?"

"Because you deserve to die in a much more beautiful way. I want to be able to make you scream. I want to hear you beg for your life. I want to see you grovel on the floor, begging for me to end your pain."

Even in a land without love, they still managed to find each other.


	5. Realm of Hell

Mukuro really felt like he should have expected this. Sooner or later, he would break under the pressure of Hell. Perhaps he should try to just suicide to get away from this, but he didn't think he would be able to go into a high realm: he hadn't attained any sort of 'enlightenment'.

Idly, he wondered, how the heck was someone supposed to be enlightened if he _already_ reached Heaven? And then: how the heck did a person who reached Heaven sink down to Hell?

And then: _Oh shit._

Mukuro felt a gush of icy, cold wind, that stung and burned, tugging at his skin—

Pain. His entire body convulsed at the torture. He gasped desperately. Cries. He heard them ringing in his ears.

Skylark. A little gray speck in the faraway sky.

Caged. Get out...have to get out...

Desperation. The fresh, blue sky.

Hunger. It hurts.

Soft. Delicate.

Fragile.

Lotus. Floating across the surface...

Resurfacing from the numbing water, the feeling of suffocation faded. Air! Sweet, beautiful air...And then...

Falling. Sinking. Drowning.

Skylark...

Burning. Stinging.

...skylark...

.

.

Silence.


	6. Realm of Hungry Ghosts

When Mukuro was born into the Realm of Hungry Ghosts, he felt like he was waking up from a nightmare. It was not that the this realm was much better. He craved and desired and wanted his skylark. His sweet skylark that he had missed, for so long. Too long.

_Illusions, Mukuro, illusions_, Mukuro thought to himself as he strengthened the one that was growing weaker. _And don't act like some lovesick girl._

Internally, he fought with himself arguing back, _It's the realm that's making me act like this. Like I would ever grow attached to someone._

Mukuro very much wished to bang his head on a wall. He already had four chances. Four chance meetings, and he still hadn't admitted his feelings (he wasn't quite sure there were feelings, after all, the realms screw with you). He was also sure that if he did hit his head against a wall everything he felt like it, he would most definitely have some sort of brain damage by now.

_Calm down,_ Mukuro instructed himself. _It's in my nature to crave, and the little skylark is the only thing I have ever been remotely interested in, even if it was just as a sparring partner, which explains my feelings here. I do not desire him, and these damn illusions aren't working on myself..._

The problem with illusions, Mukuro had figured, was that there wasn't a 'real illusion' setting on the Magnificent Dial of Illusions that could affect someone who knew they were under an illusion. If only this problem were physical. Although if that were the case, Mukuro would be extremely disturbed.

A male, looked strangely like the boy that Mukuro had 'conquered' in the Realm of Asura had walked past him. Cold gray eyes, shaggy yet smooth, black hair, beautiful porcelain skin...Those eyes...

Mukuro stopped walking and allowed him mind to process this. He didn't quite know what happened next, except that he, against his better judgment, grabbed the boy's wrist. All he knew was that a second later, he was staring at the sky with an elbow pinning him down.

"What do you want?"

"Oof. That was not necessary," Mukuro frowned. He glanced at the other man's face.

Yes, that was definitely his skylark's expression. Mukuro asked as nonchalantly as he could, "...what's your name?"

Mukuro internally applauded himself. He wasn't about to make _that_ mistake again.

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

Mukuro felt his mood go up another notch at this. His chest tightened and he could barely breathe as he thought...as he thought that was him. This was definitely him. "Let's try again, hm?" Mukuro gave him a dazzling smile. "My name is Mukuro. What is yours?"

The man didn't say anything and instead turned away. Mukuro couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day.

* * *

Mukuro returned to the spot the next day. He spent the day idly, waiting for the man to show himself. The sky was already darkening, although that might've been just the growing steadily darker storm clouds, when the skylark finally came out.

The moment he caught sight of Mukuro's happy face, he swiftly turned around. But, of course, not before Mukuro's sharp eyes caught him. "There you are! I've been waiting for you."

"Get away from me," the man hissed. He shook off Mukuro's hand, and elbowed him harshly in the gut.

"I'm really sorry, but trust me, this is for your own good."

The man didn't have enough time to process these words before Mukuro kicked his legs out from under him and pinned him to the wall. That didn't stop the other man though; he raised his leg to kick Mukuro, who released his hold to avoid the attack. The man quickly ducked down and tackled Mukuro to the ground.

Mukuro felt the wind knocked out of him but ignored it as best as he could, kicking the other to loosen the tight tackle he was held in. Mukuro rolled over to pin the other to the ground, reversing their positions. He struggled for a bit under Mukuro's grip, but eventually gave in.

"What's your name?" Mukuro asked sweetly, expecting 'Skylark' or something of that nature.

"...Negare."

Mukuro's eyes widened and he felt his heart sink. _No, no, it's okay. Whoever named him might have decided to stop it with the skylark motif, _he told himself. Mukuro took a steadying breath and looked straight into Negare's eyes, about to ask another question.

But what he saw made him stop dead in his tracks.

"You're not..."

There wasn't a will in his eyes. There was no fire. There was no passion. Nothing. They were empty. They were the eyes of a man who had given up.

...Perhaps Fate did know more than she let on.

"Never mind." Mukuro got off of Negare, who was thoroughly confused, lethargically.

Negare blinked and opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when he caught Mukuro's fierce glare. He scrambled up, almost tripping over himself, in a hurry to get out of Mukuro's way. Mukuro waited until Negare was well out of range before kicking an empty trash can. He received some sort of grim satisfaction from the way the way it toppled over and fell to the ground with a strident metallic sound.

How was this possible?

_The skylark isn't here._

_He was not here._ Mukuro repeated that mantra throughout the day, hoping it would get through his thick skull and he would be able to stop feeling this stupid, idiotic feeling. Logically, the skylark shouldn't have been here. Having four lives together, not only in the same realm, but also meeting and becoming acquaintances was something that defied all laws of probability.

Meeting him here, now that would've been like _obliterating_ the laws, especially since he had lost track of the skylark during his life in hell.

A couple days later, the cold hard truth sank into his numbed mind. It hit him with a sudden realization that tore down the remains of the false hopes that he had.

_He'd never see him again._

There was no hope for the skylark.

* * *

_'Negare' is Italian for deny_


	7. Epilogue: Realm of Humans II

When Mukuro first opened his eyes, he was surprised to say the least. He was not born into the world, but was already grown child, a boy of around six. He looked at his hands incredulously. When he had determined that they were suitably real, he glanced around at his surroundings. He noticed a silver pan holding scalpels, knives, and various other pointy objects. He grabbed the pan, and dumped its contents on the to ground with a _clang!_ He studied his reflection. He didn't even get a chance to take a good look at himself.

The breath was knocked out of him. He was drowning...He gasped desperately for air. _A boy, experimented on. The clip-clap of heels on a tiled floor. White. Red. Blood. Pain. It _hurts_. Stop it!_

_Estraneo._

And then it was gone. He sat there, panting for a while, fingers knotting and tugging at his sheets. His eyes wandered to the pan, which had clattered to the floor some time earlier. As if noticing his environment for the first time, his eyes were drawn to the others in the room.

There were two more boys on the beds next to him. One was had a head full of spiky blonde hair and the other, surprisingly neat black hair. The two of them seemed to be sleeping, or maybe even unconscious.

"-om inside the room."

"He couldn't have woken up already."

"Well we might as well go check."

The gray door swung open to reveal two men in long white coats. Mukuro greeted them with a smile.

"Oh, you are awake," one of the men said sourly. He grabbed and studied Mukuro's face closely, much to Mukuro's distaste. He forcefully lifted Mukuro's face to examine the boy and told his companion, "Go tell the director that experiment number 387 is successful."

"Oh yes, it's very successful," Mukuro said smiled sweetly as the scientist made a move to peel off the bandage on Mukuro's eye.

The man stared at Mukuro. "What are you talking abou..."

"...AAAAAAAHRGHHH!"

"What's wro-" the other scientist stopped short as he stared at the being in front of him. It terrified him to the spot.

The door slammed open. It rebounded off the wall with a _crack!_ There was a mess, a clutter, of movement where guns were waved, a dark, smooth gray under the fluorescent lights. Trays and carts toppled and fell. _Clang!_ A muffled, unintelligible mess of yells and white flurry steadily grew a deep crimson.

It was silent. A soft whimper. And then a gunshot. A soft muffled thump sounded throughout the room as the last Estraneo fell to the ground.

"Oh did I wake you two up?" Mukuro asked as he attempted to wipe off some of the blood from his face with his soaked blankets.

"Who are you?" the blond said with a high-pitched, false bravado. He clenched his fists and his jaw in an attempt to feign strength. The other black haired one just stared calmly, albeit slightly fearfully. He was silent. Mukuro lips curled into a smile as he laughed.

"Kufufu," Mukuro chuckled. "Just as I thought, this world isn't worth it... Let's erase it all."

He raised his hand to his eye and pulled off the bandage over his eye as he turned to face them. Both boys stared at the bottomless red pool, with a character floating on its surface.

"Shall we?"

* * *

Kyouya Hibari was by no means an ordinary boy. For one, he loved school. Well, his school in any case.

Namimori Middle School.

Hibari's pride and joy. He tirelessly worked to make it better, to remove any herbivores that were acting above their level, anything, for his beloved school. So when its students, particularly the ones that were on the invincible, dedicated disciplinary committee, Hibari would take none of it. And so, he fearlessly worked and fought to find out who the hooligans that were disrupting Namimori's delicate peace.

What he found, however, was much more than he bargained for.

Kokuyo was home to the rowdiest students around; that was a well known fact. However, the hooligans that caused all this trouble was far worse.

They had no qualms about hurting others. That was evident from the blood sprayed on the walls, and the fact that they pulled the teeth of their victims ruthlessly.

This did not bother Hibari in the slightest.

What _did_ bother Hibari, however, was how the hooligans' leader smiled as if he knew everything. Smiled as if he knew Hibari's every thought, his every weakness, _everything_.

And the hooligan smiled a worse kind of smile. His predatory smile was one that Hibari was very familiar with. But the way this hooligan's lips curved at the corners spoke something else. Instead of Hibari's desire to just defeat (and mercilessly _crush _and _destroy_) his opponents, this smile hinted that it wanted nothing more than to conquer. Conquer and control.

Pink petals danced in the air.

_What a coincidence. I came looking for the clams, and instead I found a little skylark._


End file.
